


Trust Me Darling

by carryaworld



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: A slice of life, Anxiety, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Mental Health Issues, References to Depression, T is for Yuri's potty mouth, Yuuri is a good supportive bf, post S1, really not dark at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 17:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18481378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carryaworld/pseuds/carryaworld
Summary: After the GPF, Yuuri moves to St. Petersburg, falls in with the Russian skate family, and does his best to support the man he loves.





	Trust Me Darling

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am, late to yet another fandom! YOI took possession of my heart, surprise surprise. I love Victor a whole lot, and we don't know a lot about him canonically, so please bear with me a bit on my interpretation of him. I hope you enjoy!

Moving to St. Petersburg is an event. It’s not Yuuri’s first time uprooting his life, but such things are never easy.

 

He’s not entirely sure how this whole thing is going to go, if he’s to be honest. It niggles at the back of his mind, causing anxiety to coil in his gut.

 

Victor’s apartment, he notices the first time he sets foot inside, is shockingly bare. It features all the hallmarks of housing a professional athlete: a yoga mat rolled up in the corner, a foam roller beside it, and the sports bag hanging on its hook by the door.

 

But it lacks homey touches.

 

There is a total of three framed pictures in the apartment. The first is of a much younger Victor and Yakov, one of Victor and Chris, and finally, a framed picture of a younger Makkachin.

 

It’s concerning to Yuuri, who can’t figure out if Victor likes a minimalist style (if so they’re going to have issues over the amount of clutter Yuuri accumulates) or if it’s something else.

 

As they start unpacking, Yuuri puts out his pictures and other knickknacks with trepidation, only to have Victor coo over them in delight.

 

“I’m getting this picture of us printed and framed so we can hang it,” he chirps happily, waggling his phone in Yuuri’s face.

 

Yuuri’s face flames a brilliant shade of red, but he doesn’t fight it. The picture of them isn’t the worst, and he can’t possibly tell Victor no when his fiancé is so excited about it.

 

The apartment takes on a whole new life as Yuuri’s things get situated, and he catches Victor observing it in wonder more than once.

 

“It always felt so empty,” Victor confides when they crawl into bed, Yuuri’s head pillowed on his chest.

 

Yuuri presses a comforting kiss on the underside of his jaw, tucking away this newest nugget of information for review in the daylight.

 

“It was just a place to sleep when I was training,” Victor murmurs. “With you, it feels like a home.”

 

There’s no helping the tears that well up in Yuuri’s eyes because the loneliness Victor felt is a solid punch in the gut. Yuuri has always had someone to come home to. His family in Hasetsu, yes, but even in Detroit he had Phichit.

 

He sniffs, plastering as much of his body against Victor’s as he can manage. “It is home. Home is where I’m with you.”

 

Now Victor is crying. Yuuri can feel the tears roll off his cheeks and drip onto Victor’s sleep shirt, and he reaches with a tentative hand to thumb the rest away. Lips press against the side of his head, and Yuuri smiles despite himself.

 

The past is gone, and now they’re home.

 

*

 

 

Victor has been quiet about his bad days. He wouldn’t have said anything at all, had Yuuri not recognized a pattern and called him out on it. It’s far too easy to recognize unhealthy coping mechanisms when you’ve tried them yourself.

 

“It’s not a big deal, Yuuri,” he disagrees quietly, when Yuuri prods him into talking about it. “Sometimes I’m just tired.”

 

The words are mumbled and his head is settled in Yuuri’s lap, practically limp as Yuuri combs tender fingers through his hair. Yuuri wonders if Victor knows the difference between tired and _tired_.

 

He’s known both himself: the downward slide after Sochi had been bad enough that before he’d returned to Hasetsu, Phichit had gently nudged him into seeing a professional. He doesn’t regret it, and once the language barrier is no longer an issue, he thinks he might find someone to see here in Russia.

 

“Vitya?”

 

“Mmmmm?”

 

The nonchalance on Victor’s part is feigned. Yuuri knows because he can feel the way his fiancé has tensed up. His heart clenches, and he strokes a soothing hand down Victor’s spine.

 

“I love you,” he says first, dropping a kiss on the crown of Victor’s head.

 

This earns him a relieved hum, and Victor turns his face into Yuuri’s stomach. “I love you too.”

 

Those words will never cease to send happy trills through him, but Yuuri hangs on to his original intentions.

 

“Whether or not you want to see someone is up to you, but I’m here, okay? Whatever you need, I’m here.”

 

His voice cracks around the words, throat raw as he holds Victor tightly, as if he could make him feel exactly how much he is loved. Victor’s face presses further into his stomach, muffling the shaky sigh that shudders out of him.

 

It’s hard. Yuuri knows that sometimes it’s just so, so _hard_. Days when he wakes and is unsure what his brain is going to throw at him. Days when no matter how much logic he applies, it just won’t stick, won’t ease the panic that’s a physical ache in his chest.

 

They’re not perfect, but they can certainly lean on each other. Victor is someone that Yuuri has learned to allow himself to lean on sometimes. Now, he just needs to show Victor that he’s allowed to lean back in return.

 

Victor eventually drags himself upright, tucking his head against Yuuri’s collarbone instead, nose just brushing Yuuri’s earlobe.

 

“Do you think I should?” he asks, far too quiet.

 

The question in itself is a concession, a step toward admitting that this is something he needs help with.

 

Yuuri loves him so much his chest might explode. “It might help,” he answers honestly. “It did for me, after Sochi.

 

Victor is silent as he thinks it over, and Yuuri lets him. It’s not his choice to make, after all. He just knows that while they’re better together, it’s unfair to make one person the sole foundation of your mental health.

 

“I’m going to sleep on it, but I think I’m going to try it,” Victor says finally, dredging up a wobbly smile.

 

Yuuri peppers his face with kisses. “My brave fiancé.”

 

Victor turns his face up for more kisses, the smile blooming into something soft.

 

“Will you let your brave fiancé pick the movie?” he asks hopefully.

 

Yuuri snorts. “Absolutely not. No more sappy romcoms for at least a week.”

 

“But Yuuuuriiiiiiii!”

 

*

 

Yuuri would dare say that he likes the St. Petersburg rink. It’s not Detroit, and it’s certainly not the Ice Castle Hasetsu, but it has its own charms.

 

Victor’s rink mates take to him immediately, though Yurio needles him whenever he feels like he’s accidentally betrayed that he actually cares about Yuuri. It’s baffling, some days, but Yuuri chalks it up to him being a teenager.

 

Somewhere, in a college psychology class, a professor is droning on about how the decision-making part of your brain isn’t fully developed until your mid-twenties.

 

Yakov is a force of sheer intimidation. Yuuri is the only one he doesn’t yell at, owing to the fact that he’s technically Victor’s student.

 

He’s still unsettling though.

 

Yuuri leans up against the rink wall, street shoes on as he watches Victor take to the ice. He already had a morning session, and now it’s Victor’s turn to work on his programs.

 

Striking a balance between coaching and competing is proving to be a challenge for Victor, but he tackles it with the fierce determination that Yuuri has always admired.

 

“He’s an idiot,” Yakov grumbles, causing Yuuri to startle.

 

He hadn’t noticed the older man had come to this side of the rink.

 

“Um?” Yuuri flounders, at a loss as to what he’s supposed to say to that.

 

Yakov sighs as he rests his forearms on top of the boards. “I’ve been coaching Vitya since he was younger than Yura.”

 

Yuuri waits, quiet, knowing that there’s a direction this is going.

 

“He’s never been an easy kid to coach. Or an easy adult, for that matter. I was furious when he took off on that hairbrained mission to Japan.”

 

Head bowed, Yuuri scuffs the toe of his sneaker against the base of the boards. He knows Yakov was furious. Some things, like tone, don’t need translation.

 

An awkward silence falls, and Yakov puts a hold on their conversation to bark instructions at Victor. Yuuri sneaks a peek and finds Victor flouncing across the ice with a grin, clearly disobeying whatever Yakov just told him.

 

“I was furious, but that doesn’t mean I was right to act the way I did,” Yakov picks up right where he left off. “He was fading at the end of that season, we both knew it. I was afraid that his whim was going to be the what brought about the crash.”

 

Yuuri looks up, lower lip caught between his teeth as he searches Yakov’s face. Victor speaks of Yakov fondly, enough that it’s obvious the father/son dynamic that they have going on. It meant that he’s kept quiet his dislike of Yakov’s behavior.

 

“Did he talk to you about _that_?” Yuuri ventures.

 

If he hasn’t, it’s not Yuuri’s place to go spilling things. Victor, for all his medals and faults, is an adult who can make his own decisions.

 

Yakov’s face drops into a severe frown. “No, Vitya likes to wear an impenetrable mask. But it’s obvious if you know where to look.”

 

Yuuri can’t help but agree.

 

“He’s happy now, isn’t he?” he ventures, eyes catching on Victor as his fiancée gleefully lands his trademark quad flip.

 

He thinks Victor is happy, at least, but maybe he isn’t the best judge of things since after all, Victor tries to make him happy.

 

Yakov huffs and there’s no mistaking the fondness in his voice. “As happy as I’ve ever seen him. You’re good for him, and perhaps for the rest of them too.”

 

Yuuri’s face burns and Yakov grumbles something unintelligible under his breath before walking farther down the boards to holler at Victor some more. At the end of the session Victor skates over, leaning over the boards to shamelessly steal kisses.

 

“Yakov seems unusually pleased about something,” he muses, blue eyes flickering over Yuuri’s face as if it will provide him with clues.

 

“No idea,” Yuuri evades, distracting Victor with a lingering kiss. “Let’s go make dinner.”

 

Victor, though horribly curious, is mercifully distractible. “Okay! I’ll do my cooldown!”

 

He snags one more kiss and then he’s off again, a blur of silver.

 

*

 

“Yuuuuuriiiiii,” Victor hums, tugging Yuuri closer against his chest.

 

It’s still early in the evening, but they’re both wiped from training so straight to bed it is. Victor is touching as much of Yuuri as he can manage at once, his face nuzzled into Yuuri’s hair and hands wandering. They try to be (fairly) professional at the rink, out of courtesy and interest in limiting how much Yurio feels the need to yell at them. Which means that the second they get home, Victor is plastered to him like a barnacle.

 

“Hmmmm?”

 

Yuuri lifts a hand to gently card Victor’s bangs back from his face. Victor leans into the touch with a pleased noise, basking in the attention.

 

“What did you and Yakov talk about?”

 

Well. Not so easily distracted after all.

 

Without pause, Yuuri offers his answer, “You.”

 

He doesn’t want to lie, even if he doesn’t exactly want to talk about it. Victor, vain creature that he is, preens.

 

“Oh? Did he give you the shovel talk?” Silver brows furrow together. “He wasn’t mean, was he?”

 

Yuuri smiles, kissing the tip of Victor’s nose. “No, and no, kind of the opposite actually?”

 

“Ahhh. Yakov likes you.”

 

Blinking, Yuuri pulls back a bit. “No he doesn’t. He tolerates me at best. I’m a Japanese skater in a Russian rink, distracting his best skater.”

 

Victor reels him back in again. “No, he likes you. You’re talented, you work hard, you inspire me, and you motivate Yurio.”

 

He pauses, a wicked smile curving his mouth upwards as Yuuri tries to protest. “Yakov is just grateful he finally has a reasonable skater.”

 

Yuuri thinks of all the headaches he and Phichit caused Celestino. “I’m not sure I qualify as reasonable.”

 

Victor waves a dismissive hand. “More reasonable, if you want to be picky about it.”

 

That makes Yuuri chuckle. “I’ll try to keep Yakov from going completely bald.”

 

“Such a good student, Yuuri,” Victor purrs teasingly.

 

Yuuri smirks, turning his face up for a kiss. “That’s not the only thing I’m good at.”

 

*  
  


“Victor, I’m taking your stupid boyfriend,” Yurio says as he skates over to where Victor is working on his choreography.

 

Victor blinks at him. “What?”

 

Yurio stares at him like he’s stupid. “I’m taking Katsudon, and we’re going shopping.”

 

“But we were supposed to have lunch together,” Victor whines.

 

It’s amazing, Yurio thinks, how a twenty-eight-year-old man can act like more of a child than him.

 

“You literally live with him,” Yurio snipes.

 

The pout is heading rapidly towards a sulk until Yuuri himself comes up behind Victor, snaking his arms around his love’s waist. Yurio mimes vomiting as Yuuri nestles his cheek against Victor’s shoulder-blade.

 

“I’ll be back in time for dinner, Vitya,” he promises. “Yurio is going to help me with my Russian while we’re out.”

 

Victor, predictably, gives in instantly. Yurio should have taken this approach from the start.

 

“I am not!” Yurio protests (he is) and skates towards the boards. “Katsudon, let’s go!”

 

Yuuri chuckles softly, sharing a brief goodbye kiss with Victor before following after the teen.

 

Why Yurio has demanded he come along for this, Yuuri isn’t sure, but he knows better than to ask questions. He stays quiet as they catch a bus, Yurio handling the fares. It isn’t until they’ve gotten off at their stop that curiosity gets the better of Yuuri.

 

“So where are we going?” he asks, extending his stride to keep up with the younger skater.

 

Yurio is on the verge of a growth spurt, and Yuuri has a feeling that he’ll soon be surpassed in height.

 

“Hah?”

 

Yuuri waits, because he knows Yurio heard him correctly. But no answer comes. Instead, Yurio starts pointing things out and giving their name in Russian, and then in English as they walk along. They make it several blocks like this before Yurio snaps at Yuuri to repeat the words back as well.

 

He does so clumsily, the unfamiliar sounds falling thickly off his tongue. Yurio laughs at his poor attempts, but it’s not mean-spirited.

 

Yurio has a nice laugh, light and tinkling and carefree in a way that he often isn’t. Yuuri wonders if he was invited along because Yurio feels comfortable with him. He hopes so. Yurio deserves to act like the fifteen-year-old he is.

 

“Are we looking for anything in particular?” Yuuri ventures.

 

Yurio slides him a narrow-eyed look so Yuuri prompts him in Russian with terribly pronounced things they could be shopping for. Shirts? Pants? Chocolate?

 

“God your pronunciation is so bad, Katsudon, shut the fuck up,” Yurio retorts without heat.

 

He scuffs the toe of his shoe against the ground, and then adds, “I want to get my grandfather something for his birthday.”

 

Oh.

 

“Why’d you ask me then?” Yuuri blurts.

 

Victor is the one that loves shopping, and literally anyone else at the rink has met Yurio’s grandfather in person. All Yuuri knows about the man is that he makes incredible katsudon pirozhki and that he is the source of Yurio’s agape inspiration.  

 

Yurio’s furious glare burns into him. “Are you fucking kidding? Because I want to get him a thoughtful gift, not something useless like those airheads would think up!”

 

Yuuri takes that in, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll do my best then.”

 

“You’d damn well better. And tell me what you think of my step sequence too,” Yurio huffs, already striding away.

 

*

 

Mila watches from the stands, lips pursed, as Victor glides across the ice. With Yuuri and Yurio gone, the rink has become quiet in the lull between reservations.

 

Victor’s programs are different this year, unlike anything she’s seen in the last several seasons of sharing a rink with him.

 

The free skate is a pleasant sort of haunting. Every time she catches a couple seconds of it, it sends a chill down her spine. There are hints of melancholy to music that brings forth questions she’d never thought to ask before.

 

With his obviously love-themed short program, she can’t help but think that he’s intentionally mirrored Yuuri’s programs. If that were true, however, that would mean that the haunting theme was a reflection on Victor’s own skating career.

 

Mila shakes her head to clear it. That can’t be right, because as far as she’s seen, that’s nothing like Victor’s illustrious skating career.

 

Victor spins on the ice below, and Mila puts her thoughts to rest. She has her own skating to worry about.

 

*

 

“You’re a sap,” Yuuri tells Victor after the latter has run through his short program for him, the music drifting softly over them as it loops.

 

Victor smiles, the heart shaped one that makes Yuuri’s heart feel like it’s collapsing in on itself.

 

“Do you like it?”

 

Does he like it? Like might be a bit of an understatement, considering Victor just poured his love out on the ice.

 

“I love it,” Yuuri says, and dammit of course the tears have to start welling up now that he’s well and truly thinking about what this program really is.

 

“Oh, moya lyubov,” Victor mumurs, leaning over the boards to gently swipe the tears away with his thumb.

 

Yuuri gives a watery chuckle, catching one of Victor’s hands with his own and holding it against his cheek.

 

“I’m just happy,” he reassures, and Victor smiles brilliantly in answer.

 

“Then I’m happy too.”

 

Victor is ridiculously sappy, but Yuuri can’t bring himself to even tease about it. Skating has always been their secret language, the way they understand each other best.

 

The way he moves across the ice in this short program… well. He might as well be screaming ‘I love Katsuki Yuuri’ to the whole world. Some days it’s hard for Yuuri to wrap his mind around the fact that this beautiful, clever person loves him.

 

Words can get twisted around in his head, but there can never be lies in the way Victor moves across the ice. He radiates happiness, and Yuuri’s whole being yearns to sing joy back in answer.

 

“Yuuri,” Victor drags him back to the present, a soft smile on his face.

 

“Hmmm?” Yuuri obliges him, turning his head to press a kiss to Victor’s palm.

 

“Come skate with me?”

 

“It’s almost time for Mila’s turn on the ice. Tomorrow?” Yuuri hums.

 

Victor pouts but concedes. “Can we do dinner then?”

 

Yuuri stand on his tip-toes so he can lean as much over the barrier as possible. He places a kiss at the corner of Victor’s mouth, and the second on his soft lips.

 

“We can do whatever you want.”

 

*

 

“Yuuuuuurriiiii, how is Russia?”

 

Phichit leans in far too close to the camera to peer at Yuuri, mostly because he knows it annoys the crap out of him.

 

“It’s good,” Yuuri scowls playfully. “Nice and cold, just the way I like it.”

 

This sends Phichit into hysterical giggles, because his best friend knows how much he detests the cold. When they lived together in Detroit, Phichit had relentlessly teased Yuuri for his rather excessive number of layers.

 

A man can only wear so many sweaters, but Yuuri really tested that limit.

 

“I’m sure your beautiful Russian fiancé is keeping you plenty warm,” Phichit scoffs when he gets his breath back.

 

“PHICHIT!” Yuuri whines, and then claps a hand over his mouth.

 

The last thing he needs to do is attract Victor’s attention. Victor is generally very good about being elsewhere when Yuuri has his calls with Phichit to give him privacy.

 

There is, however, a limit to how much he can suppress his curiosity, and Yuuri isn’t looking to test that today.

 

Cheeks flaming, he squints grumpily at Phichit. “How about you tell me about Thailand? Ciao Ciao still doing okay?”

 

Phichit smirks but lets him off the hook. “I think I’ve given him at least three new gray hairs. He keeps complaining and having special hair products shipped here.”

 

Yuuri groans in sympathy for Celestino. He’s a good coach, and Yuuri knows exactly what it feels like to be the victim of Phichit’s pranks.

 

“He’ll live,” Phichit says in a tone that’s not at all reassuring. “I need him for Worlds, after all.”

 

Ah yes, the current source of all Yuuri’s stress.

 

“How are Victor’s programs coming along?” Phichit asks, eyes innocently wide.

 

Yuuri isn’t about to spill about his coach-turned fiancé-turned competitor.

 

“It’s Victor, they’re coming along amazingly, despite the time crunch,” he says evasively.

 

“Ah damn. And here I thought that maybe he’d come down to the level of us mortals,” Phichit teases.

 

Yuuri, who has seen a disoriented Victor trying to brush his teeth with a spoon at the ass-crack of dawn, can’t help but laugh.

 

“He’s plenty human, I promise.”

 

Phichit waggles his brows suggestively. “I’m sure you know all about that, hmmm Yuuri?”

 

Yuuri holds his finger up dramatically like he’s about to end the call. “Last chance, Phichit.”

 

“Fine, fine,” Phichit complains. “Tell me about your programs. And the Russian skaters. Does Yuri Plisetsky really wear leopard print all the time?”

 

*

 

Yuuri swallows down the panic that’s making acid crawl up his throat as he steps out onto the warm up rink.

 

He didn’t qualify for Worlds last year after his terrible showing at the Japanese Nationals. If the Grand Prix Final was an opportunity for redemption, then this is his door to the future.

 

So many opportunities for failure, just when he has everything in front of him.

 

It isn’t a conscious thought when he reaches back, even though he’s halfway across the ice. Fingers close around his and familiar lips press against the side of his head before brushing against the shell of his ear.

 

“Hey Yuuri?” Victor murmurs, unhurried despite the fact that they’re probably making a scene.

 

Yuuri draws in a rattling breath and tries to regain his composure. He can feel Victor’s smile.

 

“I’m really happy to be skating on the same ice as you,” Victor says, and the world narrows back into focus.

 

He gets to skate on the same ice, compete against his fiancé, who came out of retirement just to skate against him. No matter what happens, medals or no, he gets to have this. This lifelong dream turned into a moment of shared happiness.

  
Yuuri is still learning not to let his anxiety talk him into doubting Victor, but he has no trouble in this moment. Victor, too, is getting better at helping Yuuri.

 

“I love you,” Yuuri breathes, twisting so that he can see Victor’s face.

 

Victor smiles at him, warm and open. “Love you too, my Yuuri. Now, warm-ups?”

 

*

 

Yuuri rushes from the kiss and cry to the edge of the rink just as the first haunting chords of Victor’s free program start.

 

Yesterday had gone well for both of them, the crowd loves Victor’s short program, and Yuuri himself had been swiping tears away. Victor’s love for Yuuri, though, is old news.

 

The free skate… the free skate is the first time Victor is showing this side of himself to the world. It’s heavy and hopeful at the same time, and Yuuri can feel a tear dripping down his cheek as the lyrics hum out over the speakers.

 

Yuuri knows the struggle, knows how much Victor had despaired at the end of that last season, and it rips his heart out to see it on ice.

 

The soft, fluffy Makkachin tissue-holder is pressed into his hand, and he looks up to see Yakov, whose face is pinched in an attempt not to cry as well.

 

Yurio is on his other side, unable to take his eyes off Victor. “Huh,” he says softly.

 

Yuuri watches the rest of the skate with his heart in his throat, and when Victor strikes his final pose, the stunned silence of the crowd erupts into cheers.

 

While he can’t very well run along the barrier in his skates, he still manages to catch hold of Victor as he steps off the ice.

 

“I’m so proud of you,” Yuuri gasps, the two of them catching their breath together.

 

Victor clings tightly tightly, Yuuri practically supporting him as he trembles. He pulls back just enough for a lingering kiss that Yuuri reluctantly breaks off when Yakov arrives with Victor’s skate guards.

 

“Save it for the kiss and cry,” Yakov huffs, ushering the two of them along.

 

Yuuri gets pulled to sit next to Victor as they await his scores, leaning heavily on each other. The result is as expected, and soon they’re being swamped in the hallway by press. Victor hasn’t let go of Yuuri’s hand once, and Yuuri gives it a reassuring squeeze as a microphone is shoved in their faces.

 

“Victor, care to comment on your free skate? It’s unlike anything we’ve seen from you before. Where did you get your inspiration?”

 

They can’t know the weight of the question, but it irritates Yuuri anyway.

 

Victor, who’s much better at handling the press, just smiles. He opens his mouth, and while Yuuri isn’t quite sure what Victor plans on saying, he’s had enough. It’s easy to drag Victor down into a kiss when he’s willing.

 

The press titters uncomfortably and Yuuri pulls away to smile at them. “Please continue supporting us!” he chirps, and then bolts, dragging Victor along with him.

 

They end up stumbling into a hallway, out of breath and giggling. Victor draws him close, nuzzling his nose into Yuuri’s hair.

 

“Thanks for the save,” he mumbles, the tension seeping out of his shoulders.

 

Yuuri smiles. He gets to have this, to have so many more precious things with the man he loves.

 

“I’ve always got your back.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, you can find me on tumblr @carry-a-world :D 
> 
> Title is from Bad Liar by Imagine Dragons because I love them and it feels like a very Victor song to me.
> 
> edit: I'm an idiot, and forgot to include this earlier, but Victor's short program song is Turning Pages by Sleeping at Last, and the free skate is Land of All by Woodkid, inspired of course by Nathan Chen's amazing program :')


End file.
